Madame took off the moment her husband was on board. Although she was agitated, her flying was steady, and they soon arrived at the mouth of the tunnel that had swallowed their children. There was no place to land. They anchored, to a stalactite above them and a stalagmite below. Herr von Hedwig rappelled down to the site, bathed in the Schmetterling’s searchlight.

Madame paced between the hatch and the controls, wringing her hands. A dozen times an anxious question leapt to her lips; a dozen times she quelled it. Her husband examined the cave mouth, called for more line, and then went deeper, out of her view. She stayed at the line, alert for any signal from him. At length, one came – again, more line! He was descending. She focused the spotlight down into the blackness. Although her beloved was lost from her sight, she hoped the light would be of use to him. He carried the lantern as well.

At last, the signal to wind in the line. At last he returned.

“The ship was here; they went into the tunnel. There are scratch marks along the floor.”

“Why did they go in there?” Madame’s voice strained with the effort of control.

“The blackguard must have forced them. He must have a yeti or two with him. The children would have overpowered him otherwise.”

Madame stomped her elegantly booted foot. “La Capitaine! How did she fly from Krakatoa to Fuji? Armée Aeronautique scout ship?”

“No, no, she’s a racer. Has one of those Charles Renard racing crafts. Sweet goer, apparently.”

“Where can we get a Renard?” Madame demanded.

“My dear, you’re brilliant!”

“No, I’m desperate.”

He kissed her. “You are brilliant, and we are in luck. La Belle Capitaine is stationed in Saigon.”

“Will she help us? Surely she will not deny a mother’s grief?”

“Surely not. Nor will she turn down such a challenge.”

He took the controls and landed to pick up Ulrik and the icy-haired boiler crew, dejected and wrapped in blankets. His wife stared at the mountain looming above them, as though she could see into its very heart.